


Objects in Motion

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Metaphysical Determinism [8]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Lack of Sleep, Logic | Logan Sanders is Bad at Self-Care, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Logan is well practiced in the ordeal that is finals week – he knows what he’s doing.Why is Virgil threatening him with a spatula?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Metaphysical Determinism [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668148
Comments: 23
Kudos: 338





	Objects in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to @airiervessel for beta reading!

The light flicked on, and Logan startled, looking up from his textbook and papers and over to the corner of the room that held the light switch.

Virgil. Logical. Logan had given – he glanced at the pronoun necklace and found it violet – them a key to his apartment a month ago, and it made sense that Virgil would turn the lights on as they entered.

“… L?” said Virgil.

“Yes, dearest?” said Logan.

“Is there a reason you were sitting in the dark?”

“I was sitting in natural light,” Logan corrected. “And then the sun went down.”

Virgil quirked a smile.

“And you didn’t think you should get up and turn the light on?”

“I failed to notice the change,” said Logan. “My darkvision is not quite full strength but it is enough for me to read in dim light.”

“But reading in dim light gives you a headache,” said Virgil, reasonably.

And now that they said it, Logan did in fact register a dull throb between his eyebrows.

“So it does.” he conceded.

“Self! Care!” said Virgil, punctuating their words with a pair of firm claps.

“A noted point,” said Logan. “Speaking of which, did you pick up your potions from the apothecary?”

“Self-care for _you_ , my guy,” said Virgil. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Irrelevant,” said Logan, raising one arm to jingle the silver and obsidian bracelet he had put on at the beginning of finals week. “This bracelet prevents exhaustion.”

“Does it _prevent_ exhaustion, or does it stop you from _noticing it?_ ” said Virgil irritably.

Logan examined the bracelet.

“… I do not remember,” he conceded. “I was, ironically, rather exhausted when I made it.”

“That’s it,” said Virgil, clapping again. “Break time.”

“I have already taken a break today,” said Logan.

“What day is it?” deadpanned Virgil.

Logan hesitated.

“Friday,” he said finally.

“It’s Sunday evening,” said Virgil sharply. “You’ve been AWOL for two days.”

It was only then that Logan registered the shuffling of Virgil’s feet, the tremble of their hands and the tick in their jaw.

“… I worried you,” Logan said softly. “I am sincerely sorry.”

Virgil’s face softened, their shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, yeah,” they said, waving their hand. “Take the break and I’ll forgive you.”

Logan winced.

“Virgil,” he said apologetically. “I have rather a lot to do, and I’m not sure-”

“Because you procrastinated on everything, again,” said Virgil, crossing their arms.

“I do my best work under small time constraints and unreasonably high stakes,” said Logan.

“You’re going to kill me,” said Virgil brightly. “But ‘History of Insane Chaos Wizards Through The Years’ can wait an hour for you to eat solid food and take a nap.”

“I am actually working on the final essay for ‘Probability Theory and Alchemical Processes I,’ at this exact moment.”

“ _L._ ”

“Allow me to finish adding footnotes to this sentence,” said Logan quickly. “And then – yes, a break is. Reasonable.”

Sighing, Virgil waved a hand in his direction.

“Okay,” they conceded. “ _That sentence._ I’ll cook something quick and be right back. If there’s anything besides Red Bull and cereal in your kitchen, anyway.”

“I am reasonably certain there is a bottle of soy sauce,” said Logan, only partially joking.

“How are you _alive?_ ” muttered Virgil, turning and retreating to the kitchen.

Logan turned his attention back to his essay.

He should have known better than to place such a constraint on himself – when he finished the sentence, it was simply too easy to glance up in the direction of the kitchen and hear the sounds of Virgil’s cooking and continue.

After an indeterminate amount of time, something loudly clacked on the coffee table next to Logan, making him jump.

“Oh you dirty liar,” groused Virgil.

“Forgive me, dearest,” said Logan sheepishly, which was something of a cheap shot on his part.

“I made fried rice and you are going to eat it,” said Virgil, poking Logan indelicately on the nose. “And I’m putting a ban on the homework _while_ you eat it.”

Logan raised his hands from the work in surrender.

Virgil pushed the bowl into his hands and then retrieved their own, similar bowl, sitting beside him.

As they ate, Logan felt his eyes gravitating toward the papers, just glances at first and then leaning over slightly to look, and then rearranging a sentence in his head that was rather artlessly phrased-  
“ _Logan Leclair,_ you are like a _tick_ sometimes-”

“Sorry,” said Logan, embarrassed.

And then Virgil swung their leg over both of his and settled squarely in his lap, their face set in a scowl.

“I am not moving until you finish the rice,” they said. “We can negotiate sleep after that, if I can drag you away from your precious math magic.”

Well.

The thing was, Logan was suddenly _decidedly_ uninterested in both the rice and the work that needed to be done.

Logan crammed a spoonful of fried rice in his mouth, turning over this new puzzle in his mind. Virgil was determined to inflict both food and rest on him – perhaps if Logan conceded to the nap on the caveat that Virgil cuddled him, he could sneak a kiss or two?

Virgil retrieved their own food and they continued to eat in silence. Virgil still had something of a glare on their face, which was an obstacle – they were less likely to kiss him if they interpreted it as an attempt to get out of the threatened nap.

“Thank you for making dinner, dearest,” said Logan softly.

He wrapped an arm around Virgil’s waist to keep them still, stretching his other arm to place the bowl on the coffee table. Virgil had to brace their arms on his shoulders to maintain their balance, which had been the goal.

“Your cooking is unparalleled as always,” he continued.

Virgil flushed a little, and Logan contained his victorious expression in favor of leaning over to kiss them gently.

Virgil was wonderfully warm in his lap, sighing into the kiss and fumbling behind themself to discard their own half-empty bowl. When they returned, they cradled his jaw in their hands, and Logan could feel every little divot and bump of every nick and burn from years of kitchen work, and he couldn’t help but find it utterly, hopelessly endearing.

Virgil broke the kiss with a hum, pressing their foreheads together.

“If I knew all I had to do was kiss you I would have led with that,” they murmured, running their thumb across Logan’s cheek.

“Well,” said Logan. “You now have the conclusive data. The only reasonable course of action is to repeat the experiment to reproduce the results.”

“Oh, you are such a little _shit,”_ snickered Virgil. “‘Repeat experiments,’ don’t think I’m gonna let you replace a nap _exclusively_ with makeouts here.”

“So you will let me replace it _partially_ with makeouts?” said Logan immediately.

Laughing, Virgil leaned back in to press another warm kiss to his mouth.

“Nap, then kisses,” they said.

“Kisses, then nap, kisses again?” tried Logan.

Virgil sighed, exasperated.

“Why do I even bother?” they muttered, amused, already leaning in again.

“Because you love me,” said Logan, reasonably.

Virgil’s whole face softened, their hand coming up to run their fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” they said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”

Logan was happy to report that he did, in fact, get both the kisses and the nap – and the nap, with his head cradled against Virgil’s chest, was much more pleasant than he had predicted as well.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me over on tumblr @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ^.^


End file.
